


castle on the hill

by efrondeur



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Based on a song, Driving, Established Relationship, Family, Family Feels, Flashbacks, Fluff, Homecoming, Light Angst, M/M, Only if you squint - Freeform, Past and Present, Sunsets, as in lance is literally coming home, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-12
Updated: 2017-03-12
Packaged: 2018-10-03 12:04:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10245035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/efrondeur/pseuds/efrondeur
Summary: And I'm on my wayI still remember these old country lanesYou make me feelIt's realWe watched the sunset over the castle on the hillOver the castle on the hillThe war is finally over; Lance finally gets to see his family again, but will they even be happy to see him?





	

**Author's Note:**

> finally i got over my writers block omggggg
> 
> thank you so much to [Xena](https://xenavitani.tumblr.com) for posting in the discord the song [Castle on the Hill by Ed Sheeran](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7Qp5vcuMIlk) and giving me the idea to write this. Hope you like it!! <3
> 
> also,,, this was supposed to be a warm-up fic and then it turned into 4k.... i promise a week in will continue, i just gotta get the second chapter to actually work with me
> 
> just to preface this:  
> \- they are in cuba  
> \- lance and keith are both around 26 years old

It’s happening.

_It’s happening._

He whoops and hollers, throwing his hands up, feeling the hot, humid wind blast through his open fingers as it sweeps over the open convertible. He closes his eyes, feels the engine rev through the floorboards, the wind billowing by faster and faster as the beautiful sea salt and the distinct smell of water stings his nostrils.

A laugh bubbles out of his throat, completely uninhibited, a grin splitting his face. He hears a chuckle next to him. Turning he opens his eyes, shooting Keith a dazzling smile. Keith’s eyes dart over to him for just a moment, corners of his mouth quirked up.

His bangs are flying back behind him, the rest of his hair pulled up into a tight ponytail. The setting sun glints in his eyes, the deep violet irises sparkling as a small, glassy, golden entity finds its home with them.

Lance wants to take a picture, but he can’t find it within himself to break the moment. Instead he looks out to the expanse in front of them. He sees the hill his brother and his friends chased him down when he was young while they were playing cops and robbers. He remembers laughing as he fell, rolling down the rest of it. Remembers having to go to the hospital for a cast and everyone wanting to sign it and talk to him about it. Remembers showing it off at school and forcing his little brother to wait on him hand-and-foot.

He sighs happily. It had been so simple then; what he wouldn’t give to never have left, but had he not… He looks back at Keith, eyes searching the horizon, looking for the home that belonged to Lance and his family. The house that was Lance’s safe haven when he was young, his dream every night they were on the ship, his _castle_ he’s awaited ever since they landed. It rests atop a small, but fairly steep hill, surrounded by almost obnoxiously green grass. They lived just a couple minutes’ walk from the beach, right on the edge of town, far enough for it to both be nice and quiet, but annoying enough to go to school and run errands.

They fly past a run-down liquor store, the building only in their sights for a few seconds before it’s left far behind. He remembers when he was nineteen, running there with his little brother who had just turned eighteen. He remembers handing him the money to buy his first legal bottle of booze. God, he doesn’t even recall what it was he bought. Has it… Has it really been that long?

It had been almost ten years since he left. When he went to the Garrison, he was just some kid. A kid with a list of insecurities twenty miles long. A kid who didn’t know what was too much and when to stop. A kid with few close friends, who drove all but two by the time he was launched into space. A kid who wanted so much, but took so little. A kid who cared too much for his own good, while simultaneously fighting so hard for what he believed was right.

Maybe he wasn’t so different, though. He did meet a whole universe’s worth of people, many of them taking to him quite quickly. He still cares too much for others, still takes too little for himself, but at least he does take better care of himself; however, part of that is courtesy of Keith.

He and Keith danced around each other for nearly a year before Keith finally gave up, pushing Lance against a wall, pinning him there with his forearm after Lance had just finished divulging some of the long list of insecurities, all the while screaming his affections for Lance. Not the best way to get his emotions across, but effective nonetheless. They talked things out and started unofficially dating soon after that.

After that, Keith told him he was always careful, watching for any of Lance’s tells. Watched for the slight way he would admit defeat before it even happened, and immediately redirect his attention. Gently kissed Lance’s scars at night when the pain came back to haunt him. Slung his arm around him and pulled him close when he became secluded.

Lance had never consciously noticed them when they occurred, but apparently, it did some good. Keith told him that Lance started covering less and less of himself up. That he started to become more vocal in the team, more confident when he spoke of the future. That nothing was as hopeless to him anymore, rather, just another adventure to tackle.

The smile Keith wore as he explained this all to Lance, just a couple months ago, had been one never before seen. Normally his smiles were one of three: reserved for celebrations and political outings, uninhibited when he was happy enough or drunk enough not to care, or a soft, small quirk of the lips that was saved for Lance and Lance alone. But that day? That day it was a dazzling, toothy smile. One full of happy memories and pure, unadulterated love and pride.

It was yet another time Lance wished he could’ve taken a picture, held on to the moment forever, but he’s happy he didn’t. Instead, it’s something that only he will ever be able to recall, something that not even Keith would be able to see again. Something _just_ for Lance. Yes, time may alter it, but the emotions will remain, the _meaning_ will remain. That’s all that really matters.

A bump in the road jolts the car and Lance out of his thoughts. He could swear he feels the car catch a little air, which really wouldn’t be surprising since Keith has to be pushing eighty – a thought proved correct by the sly smirk tugging at Keith’s lips. Lance rolls his eyes, laughing out of his nose.

He unbuckles his seatbelt, prompting Keith to immediately take his foot off the accelerator. Lance swats him on the arm before placing his hands on the top of the windshield and the armrest, hoisting himself up in his seat. He’s assaulted by the harsh wind, fighting to keep his eyes open as it whips past him, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. Tears fall from his eyes.

Part of him wants to sit back down, desperate to see the hometown he’s missed since he first went to the Garrison, but the other remembers it so well, knows it even better than the back of his hand. He knows that within the next minute they should be passing Sr. Garcia’s quaint animal farm. Then soon after that, they’ll be passing his old run down barn whose roof collapsed when he was nine. He used to play in it with his siblings up until then; they all cried when Mamá forbade them from ever going back in.

Lance sits back down in his seat, deciding to watch as Sr. Garcia’s farm passed, looking out the windshield for the old one as they blew past.

He and his siblings had listened to their Mamá up until Lance hit his teen years when he felt rebellious enough to finally go against her. He had dragged Sara and Manny, his eldest younger siblings, out to the barn. It had all been fun and games until Manny fell and cut his leg on a rusty nail, forcing them to run back home and take him to the hospital. To make a long story short, they _never_ went back.

He wonders how they are now… Sara and Manny and Anna and Héctor and Mamá and Pa. He hasn’t talked to them since almost a week before he found Blue, hasn’t seen them in even longer. He knows that Manny wanted to fish for the rest of his life, to just live in a small little cabin by the beach. Something Lance has never understood considering Héctor has always been a rambunctious, eccentric kid, but who is Lance to judge. Sara had wanted to be a high school teacher, one that would actually care about their kids and know about not just their ability to write or read, but their life, their passions, their feelings, and struggles. Anything and everything, she wanted to know and she wanted to support.

Would they still want that? Would Manny still be just as excitable? Or Sara just as calming? Would Héctor still love to play with the little critters in the ocean? Would Anna still be making intricate sand castles that are arguably too complex for her age?

God, how old would they even be now? Manny would be just over twenty, Sara two years older. Anna would be a bit younger than Manny, somewhere around nineteen. Héctor would be in his mid-teens. Damn. Where had the time all gone? There’s no way they’d be the same. God, he’s missed so much of their lives.

It’s then that remembers promising Héctor and Anna he’d always come back from school, that he’d never leave them to deal with the monsters under their beds alone. A sinking feeling spreads through him. He let them down. He broke his promise. Would they even want him to come back? What if they weren’t happy to see him?

This entire time he’s never even considered it. What is he supposed to do if they aren’t happy? Would they kick him out? Tell him not to come back? No, they wouldn’t… right? They’re family, they wouldn’t just kick him out. Plus he’s been gone for years, they’d be happy to have him back, not upset. Yeah, definitely not upset.

A hand finds its way to his thigh, rubbing up and down soothingly. It’s only then that he realizes he’s been bouncing it. That must be one of his tells, he guesses. Looking over to Keith, he catches his eye. Keith’s eyebrows are pinched together. Lance shoots him a smile, but it just makes Keith frown more.

A structure comes into view in front of them, slightly to their left. Lance would recognize it any day. His heart skips a beat, only to immediately pick up, rapidly pounding against his rib cage.

He’s here. He’s actually here.

Keith’s hand gives Lance’s thigh a squeeze before returning to the wheel.

No one told his family that Lance was here, yet. He had asked if they could surprise them, although maybe just showing up at the door out of nowhere might not have been the best idea, it was better than nothing. He couldn’t wait to see the look Mamá’s face. Or Pa’s. Or any of his siblings’. Be it good or bad, any look would be better than never seeing them again.

The sun is setting behind the house - _his_ house, he reminds himself. The red mixes with the yellows, creating a beautiful, peaceful amber that tapers off into a deep blue as the sun’s rays give its last farewells, no more than an hour left before it disappears for the night. They make the house look like a silhouette sitting atop the hill, surrounded by a beautiful halo of color, welcoming him to the long awaited heaven that is _home._

He almost doesn’t feel like this is real. That just as he sees his family he’ll wake up in his bunk, still back on the ship. That the beautifully humid air will be replaced, instead feeling cool, over filtered. That the only warmth he’ll have is the thin blanket and the body that’s always wrapped around his own. That it’ll be just another day, just another mission, just another _something_ that Allura claims will bring them closer to returning to Earth but makes it feel like they’re decades away.

But it is real. It is _very_ real.

Keith is already slowing, clicking his turn signal on for the short, recently paved driveway. Thank god they repaved it. It’s been slowly breaking apart ever since Lance was little. One day when he was about three, he had been riding his tricycle, only to hit one of the cracks in the pavement and tumble off the little thing. He scraped his knees, nothing more than mere surface cuts, but he’d cried for _hours._ Sometimes he really doesn’t understand why his parents thought it would be a good idea to have more children after he was born; he had been such a handful.

The car comes to a smooth stop, already in the driveway. Lance could’ve sworn they were just on the road. He goes to unbuckle his seatbelt, only to realize he’d already done it earlier. He doesn’t even try to open the door. Instead, he plants his hand on the door, hikes his feet up onto his seat, and jumps over, earning an indignant half squawk half sigh from Keith.

He leaves his fiancé in the dust, bolting up the few porch stairs. His hand goes to the knob out of habit. Not even thinking, he turns it, pushing against the door. It flies open without haste, opening right into his home. He takes a couple steps in, turning towards the kitchen.

Eight pairs of eyes meet his own, two of which he doesn’t even recognize, yet they all look nearly the same; they’re all his shade of blue. There’s a gasp from the person all the way on the right followed by a pot clanging against the floor. His eyes dart over to them, only to be met by a blur.

Familiar arms are wrapping around him before he can react, an even more familiar scent overwhelming him: lilacs and spices with a slight tinge of sweat. It’s soothing, calming. Memories rush back to him.

Hugging his mom goodbye, her crying softly in his arms as her baby goes out to explore new beginnings. Cooking alongside her for the first time, excited he’s finally being trusted to mix the ingredients together before his mother uses them on the stove. Dancing in the living room as their favorite songs come on the radio. Her kissing his forehead goodnight and kissing his cheek good morning.

Another pair of arms wraps around him, muskier. The smell of cinnamon, tree bark, and motor oil. He remembers sitting on the porch for hours on end, talking about nothing and everything. Walking over to the beach, hand in hand as he silently hoped to one day be as tall as his father. Learning how to figure out the problem with a car and being laughed at as he tried and absolutely failed to fix it. He would always laugh along with; let’s be real, he’s broken more cars than he’s fixed… meaning he fixed one and broke about seven others. But hey, one for seven is better than nothing to eight.

One by one, more wrap around him, gentle sobs shaking each and every one as they cling to each other, not a single word passing between them. In fact, not much is said that night, at least not by Lance’s family. Normally that would set Lance off, but it’s different this time. They don’t need words. They don’t need the reassurances or the story, not yet, at least. No, all they need is to be around each other, to be _with_ each other.

The only words spoken were by Mamá and the two new face’s he’s never seen before, along with a select few from himself and a simple _hello_ from Keith. Apparently, right before he went missing, Mamá had found out she was pregnant again, this time with identical twins: Rosa and Theresa. He’d always expected meeting a new family member you’ve never known about to be weird, but it… it isn’t. Not at all. They smile at him, say hello like they’ve known him their whole life, which, honestly, they probably have.

His family had always been one of storytellers. Those who embellish their own stories and strive to make sure those of their families never die. They’ve always been who people go to for a good laugh or an exciting story when they want to be distracted from the hell that is normal life. It’s something Lance has prided himself on, spending night after night regaling stories from his household or of the royalty of old. Building neverending worlds, enticing enough to keep even the Paladins of Voltron minds away from a war for a night, allowing them to go to bed with happy smiles and light hearts, freeing them from the nightmares that normally plague their dreams.

He wonders what kind of stories they’ve told about him.

He joins them for dinner, introduces them to Keith, who they take in as part of the family almost immediately. They switch into talking English most of the time just for Keith’s sake; Lance watches Keith the entire time. He watches as the twins sit on either side of him, always keeping at least one pair of eyes on him the whole time, be it a fear factor or actual curiosity, Lance doesn’t know. Either way, the uncomfortable look on Keith’s face will keep Lance laughing for the rest of his life.

After dinner, Lance offers to help with the dishes, a simple gesture that brings his Mamá to tears for the second time that night. He’s not exactly sure why - and he doesn’t push - but he holds her in his arms, resting his cheek on the top of her head. They stay like that for awhile, her clinging to him, him holding her. Eventually, he starts to hum. At first it was mindless, nothing more than a random tune, but eventually, it morphed into something else: their favorite song. Well, a slowed down version of their favorite song, La Bicicleta. He hums the beginning vocals of Carlos Vives; she picks up for Shakira. They take their turns, starting to sway on the kitchen floor, her head buried in his chest.

Their voices meld together for the chorus, beautifully complimenting each other as they come together. Mamá’s voice cracks occasionally, but her voice is just as beautiful as he remembers. Her control and pitch nearly perfect aside for the few cracks; it’s still soothing, level and serene. It’s exactly what he needs.

After they finished the dishes, Lance and Keith went outside onto the porch, just the two of them. It was the one part of the house that was very different. It used to be made of a dark, stained wood with three of outdoor chairs lining the edges and large coffee table in the middle of them. Now it’s painted white, full of four fairly obvious amateur-made, two-seater wooden lawn chairs, and a small table in the middle of them with an even smaller side table to the left of every chair.

Keith and Lance take the one against the far wall, the door on their right and open land to their left, a habit they’ve picked up after years of fighting. Always keep an eye on every point of entry. Sitting side by side with an arm slung around Lance’s shoulder, Keith pulls him close, resting Lance’s head on his chest. He leans his head down, pressing his nose into Lance’s hair, breathing deeply before nuzzling in. Lance smiles to himself before doing the same to Keith’s chest.

He listens to Keith’s heartbeat, slow, steady, and familiar in his chest, lulling Lance into a calm he hasn’t felt in far too long. He takes a deep breath, relishing in the scent sea breeze mixing with one of the few constants of the past decade: Keith.

“Y’know,” murmurs Keith, lifting his head from Lance’s hair. “If you hadn’t been here as well, I wouldn’t think any of this is real. I’d still be in denial.”

Lance frowns, eyes fixing on the horizon spread out to their left, watching as the very last rays of the sun slipping away. Most of the sky is a dark blue, the color right before the stars come out, with just the very edge a beautiful amalgamation of every red, orange, and yellow as it fades into the blue. He used to see this just about every day, seeing it again its… it’s a lot.

“Why does me being here make it any different?” asks Lance.

“Because it’s taken me these past four years to convince myself that you’d actually be with me. Plus the entire last year or so to allow myself to believe that you did, in fact, say yes when I asked you to marry me. Something like this is completely believable compared to those, to _you._ ”

Lance swallows around a lump starting to form in his throat. He nuzzles against Keith’s chest again before sitting up. His eyes catch Keith’s, see that fond quirk of lips that he saves only for Lance. His eyes start to water slightly as a hand comes up to cup his cheeks. A tear spills out, just for a thumb to gently wipe it away. Lance leans into it, closing his eyes; he feels the familiar, soothing warmth emanate from the slight touch, relishes in it.

He hears Keith laugh through his nose. Lance’s eyes blink open as he gives Keith a flat look, one that makes Keith laugh aloud. Clicking his tongue, Lance rolls his eyes fondly, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth, only making Keith laugh even harder. Lance tries to hold his own in but can’t; it bubbles past his lips without his permission, crinkles the corners of his eyes.

With the hand still cupping his jaw, Keith pulls him in, still laughing, and presses a kiss lightly to his lips, more smiles than an actual kiss. Rolling his eyes again, Lance slips his hand to the back of Keith’s neck, pulling him back in for another. It’s deeper, but not by much, just enough to keep Lance satisfied for the time being.

But apparently not for Keith, for when Lance pulls back, Keith follows, eyes lidded. Slipping his hand around Keith, Lance presses two fingers to Keith’s lips, watching as Keith immediately kisses them. Stifling a laugh, Lance’s handshakes, causing Keith to pause, eyes flying open. Before Lance does anything, Keith grounds out, “Not a word.”

Lance takes his fingers away, pretending to zip his mouth shut, to which Keith narrows his eyes, nodding sarcastically. He turns his head away from Lance, staring out to the glowing horizon. Lance smiles, leaning into peck his cheek before laying his head on his shoulder, doing the same. Keith’s arm comes back up, wrapping around him again, squeezing him close. His tilts his head to the side, letting his cheek rest atop Lance’s head.

Lance takes a deep breath, relishing in the smell of firewood, ash, and the faint smell of cloves that he’s grown so accustomed to over the past few years. Reveling in the warmth of the body next to him. Finding peace in the calm, comfortable silence resting over them.

But Lance can’t stop himself from breaking it. It needs to be said. Keith needs to know, despite him being told time and time again. Lance whispers a small, “I don’t know how I would’ve ever gotten through any of this without you by my side. You’re my rock and my voice of reason. My rival and my joy. I love you. I love you so much.”

Keith chuckles quietly. “I love you, too,” he whispers, turning his head to drop a kiss into his hair.

Lance hums, letting his eyes slip shut as he takes a moment to remember exactly how perfect his life is at this exact moment.

He’s home; he’s cuddling with his _fiance_ ; he won an intergalactic war that has been going on for over ten-thousand years in just ten; his family still loves him; his home is still intact; his planet is still intact; he’s loved by so many around him; and he’s made friends all around the universe, ones that will last even more than a lifetime.

How could he ever ask for more?

**Author's Note:**

> comments and criticisms are love!!
> 
> come talk with me on my [tumblr](https://shiros-eyes.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/thememewrites)


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